


Painted Sheets

by FrogSpawn



Series: Septiplier/Danti One-Shots [11]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abstract, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Nude Modeling, Nudity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Painting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sculpture, Sexual Content, Short One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:55:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22225231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrogSpawn/pseuds/FrogSpawn
Summary: Mark groaned lowly, his deep voice penetrating the warm air as his eyes flickered from where his wrist was sculpting the curves of his lover's back on the canvas to the nude, arched form of his lover splayed out across the velvet rugs. Wide, cerulean eyes sparkled up at him as Mark allowed his eyes to linger on how the small of his back rose into a fine arse, the cheeks firm and rounded.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Sean McLoughlin
Series: Septiplier/Danti One-Shots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1426423
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	Painted Sheets

"Mhm, stay nice and still, that's it," Mark murmured lowly, his deep voice penetrating the warm air as his eyes flickered from where his wrist was sculpting the curves of his lover's back on the canvas to the nude, arched form of his lover splayed out across the velvet rugs. Wide, cerulean eyes sparkled up at him as Mark allowed his eyes to linger on how the small of his back rose into a fine arse, the cheeks firm and rounded. Shifting slightly on his stool and adjusting his paint-stained robes to make room for his growing interest, Mark began to hum as he forged more shapes and curves out of pale ivory, mouth open in awe and arousal.

The giggles from the model brought Mark back to the present, from where he was gazing adoringly at the smooth expanse of clear skin. He winked at the painter and moved marginally to give Mark a good view of his cheeks and his half-hard penis from where it was leaking against the cool sheets. "You know," he began, Irish accent coating each word and making it swirl around Mark's head like water in a drum, "The silk feels so good against cool skin. We should try it sometime."

"God, Sean..." Mark started, swallowing down his half-formed moan at the images and scenarios blossoming in his head like the most beautiful flower. "You're so gorgeous."

Another giggle and a little shimmy of his hips. Brown hair swooping in front of sparkling eyes and plump lips parting to reveal a moist cave. Blue flickered to the ever growing bulge in Mark's underwear. "You're the painter, not a patron; this is one piece that you do get to touch."

Mark took in a shuddering breath as he set down his tools, not even caring that the paint would dry and create crusty unusable chunks of the brushes. "God, do you even know how... perfect you are."

"I have a pretty good idea." came the sly response as Sean licked his lower lip, half lidded eyes crawling up and down Mark's muscular frame, "But I always did learn better from practical work. The fault of the arts, perhaps... would you care to show me, cement my understanding?"

In a few long strides Mark was across the room, apron discarded somewhere on the floor, boxing in Sean's hapless figure as he hovered over him, capturing those strawberry-pink lips with his own. They tasted as sweet as they appeared judging by how Mark melded their lips together, tongues dancing in harmony. Calloused, tan hands caressing and worshipping the smooth flatness of Sean's stomach, dropping down to hold his hips and he lifted his lower half up to meet his, grinding their erections together. The denim of Mark's jeans felt like ecstasy against his bare skin, smears of pre cum darkening the baby blue colour. Their moans filled the air much like a scent, an aroma of passion and pleasure as they enjoyed each other's bodies, gazing at them like works of fine art.

Soon, both of them were bare, and Sean's head was tossed back, eyes closed and hair spread across rumpled sheets of purple. His mouth agape, pants entering the atmosphere, as his painter and lover worked his tongue around his entrance, teasing him and the coil of heat in his lower stomach. The spit-soaked channel inside of his body was pulsing, begging to be filled. "Please, please, Mark," he pleaded breathlessly, breaking in his speech only to whimper and moan with the sweetest of tones, the hazy fog of incoherency drifting down upon them as pleasure rammed up with the stimulation of his prostate.

"Mark-" he started again only to cry out as that dexterous, skilled hand, slid inside of his throbbing heat. Alongside the new intrusion, another set of fingers worked his shaft, pulling the foreskin and dipping into his slit, spreading the evidence of his euphoria down his body. He stiffened and sobbed, eyes glassy with unshed tears. A chuckle forced its way out of Mark's throat, loud and sudden, rasping Sean's deaf eyes, until a moist muscle began to thrust into his cheeks. Mark's face swam into view as Sean cracked his eyes open, seeing the bleary shape of tan and black and brown gazing down on him as fingers were pumped in and out of him.

Sean looked so gorgeous, he knocked the breath out of Mark's lungs. Cheeks flush and eyes hazy, pupils dilated as Sean stared through him, unable to comprehend Mark in the ocean of bliss that he was drowning in. Whenever he was like this, his face would open up and bloom like a flower, becoming lax and fluid in its expression of such sensations. It was breathtaking to watch and made his chest ache with how hard his heart was pounding against his ribs.

He adjusted the positioning of his fingers to give Sean's prostate some direct pressure, and was enraptured by how Sean's face tensed, a small dribble of seeds trickling from the tip of his penis, before it twitched and a burst of hot white burst forth, spraying over equally pale chest, falling into the creases and definition of the lean abs on Sean's chest. He drew artful circles around Sean's prostate to guide him through his orgasm, before removing his fingers entirely and positioning himself at his entrance.

Sean was gasping out, head pounding, barely coherent and drowning in a thick sea of fog and rapture when he felt the hard organ pushing into him. It was so much, enough to set his nerves on fire and make them burn in roaring flames, almost too much, but it felt too good to stop. The feeling was addicting as it began to piston itself in and out of him, accompanied by the throaty, hearty groans and moist pants into his neck. Cracked lips scraped against the sensitive skin on his neck, the nibble and digging of teeth into the flesh almost too much.

They last a fair amount of time once Mark began fucking into Sean in earnest. Their breaths were short and stuttering, becoming harsher with each thrust of Mark's hips. Praise was passed between them in hushed tones and arms held the other close to their chest, spreading cum between them and neither caring as they embraced the other.

Soon, though, the heat in their stomachs was searing, burning into their bones and painful to hold onto. Their cocks' throbbed, before Sean allowed another load to diffuse across his stomach, the rhythmic tightening of his arse causing Mark to spill deep inside of Sean, groaning and chanting his name quietly.

The air was hot and light. It stank of salt and sweat. There were no sounds save for the muted friction of bristles against canvas and soft breathing.

Mark's mind was calm and quiet, his body lax. His gaze drifted leisurely from the picture he was creating before him and the sight of his lover, draped over purple silk, skin shining with dried sweat, pools of thick white clinging to his torso and at his inner thighs. Blue crystals were covered by lethargic eyelids, head lolled back into soft sheets. The model almost wished to direct what focus was still floating around in his body towards the painter as he portrayed what he viewed as such a beautiful image on a stretched canvas, however the promise of simply bathing in his afterglow was too powerful.

Their sincere smiles were not for show or for deceit. They weren't even a conscious thought. They were purely there for the other in the room to appreciate and praise.


End file.
